I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. "Austin will stare," thought Jack, "when he comes here in the morning. Thus, more and more Ruth turned to the mongrel dog who bore the name of Rollo unflinchingly—the dog that adored her openly, shamelessly, who now without a whimper took his diurnal tubbing. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release.
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